


Mr. Gold

by RiskPig



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), The Good Wife (TV)
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Gen, Rumbelle - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-17
Updated: 2014-07-17
Packaged: 2018-02-09 06:24:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1972272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiskPig/pseuds/RiskPig
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Baelfire didn't fall through that portal alone. A retelling of OUAT Season 1 - Eli Gold is the persona of Rumplestiltskin's long lost brother, and has come to Storybrooke the same day as Emma.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mr. Gold

Eli drove out to Maine for one purpose:

Court-mandated reprieve.

He was a busy man. Had been through a lot. He was well aware of the way his hands shook as he steered his rental through the creepy, winding woods. The GPS, his new best friend, replayed her reminder to turn right on the one-way road with no forks. She might not be the brightest mapping software around, but they had really bonded for the past eight hundred miles. Her monotonous voice combined with the whispering radio static soothed him more than a full spa package.

Motel stays, naps at rest stops, and bad diner food kept him alive for the past week. Forced out of the office for seven months, Eli sought routines that removed him completely from the political mindset, and the Kerouac life called out to him. His nephew recommended a trip to the East coast.

_"Hey, some cold beaches and warm hospitality sounds like a good fix. You deserve it, man."_

His nephew was a good kid. A real good kid.

Lost in his reminiscing, he didn’t catch the hiccup in the GPS feed - a brief blur dimmed his map, and refreshed with a new route to a town in the forest.

* * *

_Storybrooke. Cute._

Eli drove through the small square, bustling with locals in pastels, passing an honest-to-God clock tower. Mommies and kiddies were seated outside a sundae shoppe, grandmothers lugged groceries in tall, brown paper bags, and he spotted a gentleman wearing glasses and tweed taking his dog out for an evening stroll.

The sight of fresh-faced townies, no doubt living in gorgeous Colonials, reminded him that he needed a real bed, and a hot shower.

GPS directed him to the bed and breakfast, housed directly behind a classic dinner called _Granny's_. Blowing his companion a kiss goodnight, Eli shut off the engine, and opened the car door, but did not get out. Shifting in his seat, he took a moment to stretch his legs, groaning as his muscles protested the effort.

Closing his eyes, taking a deep breath through the nose, he leaned back and listened to the... nothing. There was absolutely nothing but the  sound of a gentle wind brushing against the bushes that guarded the entrance to the inn.

Perhaps seven months in a town like this wouldn't be so terrible. With no important phone calls, conferences at three o'clock in the morning, or arguments over cold Chinese, Eli might actually achieve a full night of sleep for the first time in decades.

Now smiling, he climbed out of the car, locked the doors, grabbed his luggage (a single suitcase packed with suits, toiletries, and granola bars), and marched his way to the lobby.

When he opened the door, all thoughts of fluffy pillows, eggs and toast, and kitschy decor went out the window as he spotted the profile of a woman he had not seen for a little over ten years.

Emma. Emma Swan.

She heard the little bell over the door, but with the help of his long legs, he quickly moved from the door to a corner in the back of the room, his cell phone pressed to his ear, pretending to be on a call. Eli kept his back turned, mouthing a prayer to any god out there that she didn't get a good look at him. If Emma was staying here, perhaps even living here, he needed to get out of town. Now. He kept to the corner, waiting for her to leave the room.

A shout from another room shook him out of his panic, and he observed a young woman in heavy makeup arguing with an old woman straight out of a King novel. She had the sweater, frizzy hair, and teeny glasses perched at the tip of her nose, and Eli held back a whimper, disappointed that he was going to miss out on hospitality from such a charming character.

Emma ordered a room, and at the moment her back turned, he braced himself for a run.

And then someone else came in through the front door.

There are some things in life, that no matter how much times has passed, could still make one cry.

It was with utter horror, and a chill coursing through him, did Eli take in greying hair, a strong nose resembling his own, and a gold-tipped cane. The cane confirmed his nightmare, compelled him to accept the vision standing before him, with its shoulders pushed back in a powerful posture that Eli himself had drilled into his clients.

The monster in gingham sauntered to the front desk, and spoke.

"Emma. What a lovely name."

Eli watched him leave, cash in hand, that cane tapping softly against the floor. He released a long breath, anxiety building up in his fingers, and he regretted leaving his pills in the car. He hadn't need them for days, but the past thirty seconds tempted him to swallow the whole bottle.

That voice, that damn voice was a mockery of the one he knew and loved so dearly. He was sure he could have repressed this moment, dodging an emotional bullet if the damn man never spoke.

Wiping away the cold sweat that gathered on his fore head and above his nose, he fished out his phone from his jacket pocket, hoping this place had a signal. Opening Google, he started a search for another town, or at least a hotel. He could put off sleeping a little longer if that meant never having to see his...

He thought of his nephew. How would he be able to look the man in the eye, and keep this a secret?

"Who's that?" asked Emma. He held back a laugh, wishing that she never had to find out.

" _Mr. Gold._ "

The girl - the innkeeper's granddaughter, presumably - pulled back a curtain to watch the monster stroll off the property, head down and a hand in pocket.

Mr. Gold. That was the name. For years, Eli tried to impress upon his nephew that there was no such thing as fate. That sometimes, people did bad things, or that bad things happened to people, without rhyme or reason. And the two words out of that girl's lips proved him wrong.

"-inn?" Emma had asked another question.

"No," said the old woman, and the gravity in her voice, the seriousness, reminded him of the King comparison. If this were a novel, she would be offering a warning to stay away from that man, cursed by a great evil or sickness, and before today, Eli would have laughed over the absurdity.

She shook off the tense atmosphere, and asked Emma how long she would be staying.

A week. Emma Swan would be staying in this town for one week. Taking off, key in hand, Eli watched her go up a set of stairs, before making eye contact with the old lady.

The time had come for him to leave; just wave goodbye, offer a small apology, and waltz out the door with all of his strength to appear nonchalant. But when he watched Emma take that room key, he knew he had to make a hard choice. Not for her. For his nephew, the only person in this world he cared about aside from his daughter.

Eli had to stay. His brother was a snake, and If he ever knew of the (albeit loose) connection Emma had with Neal, he would use her to get what he wanted. And he had to want Neal; why else would he be here? There was no magic in this world, nothing to gain here save from taking back the child he abandoned. Emma had a past filled with holes, and a penchant for running. Someone like that would be useful.

But if Eli stayed, and made himself known, she might want to leave.

"Good evening, ma'am. I'd like a room."

 

 


End file.
